The King of the World
by Sixty-four K
Summary: Inspired by The Midwich Cuckoos, this is a tale of The Once-ler's birth, his rise to fame, his family, and the being who wanted him to be the king of the world.
1. Chapter 1

**The King of the World**

**Book One: To the Middle of Nowhere**

_Author's note:_

_Hello! I am a bit of a latecomer to The Lorax fandom, watching the movie for the first time in the fall of 2014. After reading The Midwich Cuckoos, by John Wyndham, I was inspired to write this take on The Once-ler's origin. I hope that the surviving members of The Lorax fandom will read this, and give me their ideas on the direction the story should take. I have the basic outline down, but nothing is set in stone. Constructive criticism is appreciated. Thank you!  
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_Sixty-four K_

**Chapter one:Down to Earth**

As I roam through the long, twisted valleys, across the misty moors, between the gnarled trees of the forests, I think of great commission. What is my purpose, my reason for existence? It is to breed, to conquer adversaries, and to better my race.

My race. As the seed of Abraham was to multiply to such a degree that its number would surpass that of the stars, so will my race multiply, spreading throughout the universe, populating every star.

My people. Taller than any man, more fair of face than any woman, stronger than an ox, as wise as an owl, as noble as a lion. All these words are new to me. I have only recently learned what an 'owl' or a 'lion' is. Thankfully, I am quick to learn whatever I am taught. Our race is quick to adapt.

Even the words 'man' and 'woman' are foreign to me. I have been told by the doctors of my world that, by this world's standards, I am a man, and that is what I have striven to become, as of late. Manly mannerisms have had to have been adapted; a wardrobe, so different from that of my world's, has been created for my use.

I have come here, you must understand, to plant a seed. The seed of my race must flourish on every star. I must find a suitable host, a 'container', for this seed. My master speaks of 'courtship' and 'marriage'. Although I do not yet know what these terms mean, the master assures me that all will eventually be revealed. First, though, I must find the host.

As I approach a small village, I continue to reflect on my mission. The host must be female, I am informed, for reasons that I know not. The chance of of successful germination will greatly increase if the host resembles my race. That, however, is highly improbable.

If one wished to see the personification of my race, one would only have to look at me. My eight foot height, my 'beanpole' figure, and my jet black hair, which falls into my cyan eyes, cause me to look quite different from the inhabitants of this world, though I am nothing special on my world. The sound of my breath is an unhealthy gasp. My world's atmosphere is heavier than this world's,while the gravity is less. Both of these factors affect my breathing. My long legs, five-eighths of my body length, consistently trip over the many obstacles in this wide land.

My ears constantly ring from the noise here. In my world, everyone is content to remain silent. This is not so here. The squealing of tyres, the wail of sirens, the thumping and grinding of factories-all these things cause my head to spin.

This small hamlet that I now approach is the first place that I have encountered in this world. The colours are not overwhelming, the cool wind caresses my burning face, hot from the exertion of walking. The noise is minimal...

What's this? Two small boys run out in front of me on the rocky, winding road. They stop, stare, point, and laugh-at me, of all things. I stop, stare, and scowl at the children. Such a thing has never before occurred on my world. I have never before been considered a... _spectacle._

"Bret! Chet!" shrieks a high- pitched voice. "Where are ya, li'l rascals?"

A young woman flies out onto the path, grabbing the little boys and shaking them roughly. "How many times has Mama told ya ta stay where she can see ya?" she growls through gritted teeth."Ah could just...oh!" She evidently notices me, and stares, like the boys.

I find myself staring as well. I quickly look away from her and into the sky.

"Uh... they been givin' ya trouble, mister?" she asks.

"Um... no," I answer flatly. "Not at all. I was simply passing through this fair hamlet."

She looks at me with interest.

"Tourist, are ya? We dun't get many'a those round these here parts."

"Is that so?" I reply, cringing at her flippant use of slang. "Now, if you would excuse me, madam, I will continue to traverse my long and weary road."

"Tired, are ya?" she says sympathetically. "Why dun't you come over to my place for dinner? My sister and her man would love to have ya. It ain't often that we get news from outside of town."

Before I can respond negatively to her invitation, the girl grasps my arm tightly and drags the two boys and I towards, presumably, the direction of her home. Afraid to break away, I pray that this situation will further my progress in my true mission, and let myself be dragged along.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: A Little Rest

I am now seated at my new-found acquaintance's table, awaiting the dinner that I have been promised. There is evidently much that I must learn about this world. I was told that I would need to exchange worthless metal for life-giving food; however, when I offered this girl 'currency', she seemed offended, asking if I had ever heard of 'generosity'. I am truly thankful for this act of kindness that she has bestowed upon me.

"Well, I hope you're hungry," the girl calls as she waltzes through the kitchen. She sets a pot down onto the table.

"What's this?" I ask. The girl frowns.

"Why, it's soup! Healthy, nutritious, all-around delicious soup. I made it myself. It's even got meat in it. Today was my payday, ya see."

The young lady takes a flying leap into an empty chair, the legs of it squeaking from the impact. "Well, now that we're all settled, I can introduce my lovely family. This here's my sister Grizelda, and her hubby, Ubb," she says, indicating a tall portly woman and a diminutive man.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," I pronounce, holding out a spindly hand. Grizelda and Ubb do not respond in kind, merely giving me a curt nod, then giving their full attention to their food.

"These li'l brats are Brett'n'Chet," continues the girl. I look towards the two toddlers, who are already swallowing their soup with great gusto.

"What may I address you by?" I query.

"What..oh!" She gasps, than giggles nervously. "I didn't even tell ya yet? Sorry 'bout that. I'm Isabelle. And what's your name?"

A name? What name? I was not prepared for this; therefore, I am rendered speechless.

"Go on, mister. Cat got your tongue?" Isabelle smirks.

Suddenly, I am hit with a divine wave of poetic inspiration. "Andrew. Andrew Once-ler," I proclaim.

"Andy, huh? Cute name," Isabelle says, before beginning to eat.

The conversation over, I take the opportunity to examine Isabelle more closely than I did before. She is close to six feet tall, her frame thin and wiry. Her hair is meticulously curled, a red bow providing a striking contrast to the bright yellow of it. Her clothes, though thin and obviously cheap, are stylishly worn. Though the word 'beautiful' is still new to me, I know that it does not fit her. Nonetheless, a different word comes to mind. Pretty. Yes, Isabelle is definitely pretty.

"Everythin' alright, Andy?" I snap out of my daze and give my full attention to Isabelle, who is observing me with a curious expression gracing her face.

"Indeed, I am in perfect health,"I reply. I look about the room. Although it seems rather dilapidated- the paint on the walls peeling, the linoleum chipped, the faucet dripping- the room is still inviting. Little knick-knacks are placed here and there; the dishes on the table, although faded, are patterned with an appealing floral design.

I clear my throat. "I was merely admiring your fair abode."

"Ya like it?" Isabelle beams. Apparently this is a weak spot of hers. "Well, I do like decoratin'. It's just a hobby of mine, tho'. I actually aim to be an accountant. That's what I'm savin' up for."

"Hah!" I start at Grizelda's sudden exclamation. "You'll never get ta college with yer his'try," she continues.

"Yeah," adds her husband. "'Sides! Ya ain't got enough cash ta get there."

"Well," Isabelle scowls. "I'm workin' pretty hard at the restaurant, and I save more than I spend. If you two lazy mules would get out there and get a job, then I could save more, and get to college faster."

"No college on earth is gonna accept you, Izzy, and you know it," insists Grizelda.

The tense atmosphere makes me uncomfortable, and I perceive that I have outstayed my welcome. "Thank you for your hospitality, Miss Isabelle, but, alas, I may not tarry longer, and must be on my way," I say, rising from the table and walking out the door, remembering to place my soup bowl in the kitchen sink on the way out.

"Wait!" I hear Isabelle call after me. I turn towards the girl.

"Um, Andy... thanks for comin' to visit. No one ever really comes to visit me..." she clears her throat. "Have a safe journey, will ya?"

I watch her run back into her little shack of a house. I sense a great unease within her, though I know not what could be the cause.

_Author's note_

_I would like to thank Bellechat and Detouredbe for reviewing. I've read your Lorax stories before, and enjoyed them very much. Bellechat, your idea about the Once-ler's conscience is pretty close to the truth; however, it will still be a little while before the story progresses to that point. Thank you for reading!_

_Sixty-four K_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three:********A Most Agreeable Encounter:**

-_Isabelle's point of view_

There. It's a new day, and I'm back to the daily grind. Nine to five and all that. I really shouldn't complain. I'm lucky to have a steady job at this trashy little restaurant. The job only pays $1.25 an hour, though, and that really takes away from what I can save for college. I'm probably never going to get there.

At quarter to five, I'm itching to get out of here. The walls seem to be closing in on me, trying to crush me. I'm counting the seconds to five o'clock when, suddenly, the door of the restaurant flies open. I look up, curious to see who would come so close to closing time. Why, it's that traveler from the other day- Andy.

"Hey, there, Andy," I greet him. "Why're ya here, hon? It's almost closin' time. The bar don't open 'till nine."

"I was not aware of that," Andy replies stiffly. "I apologize for any inconvenience this incident may have caused you or this establishment."

"Aw, it ain't no trouble," I say. "What can I get you, Andy?"

"Whatever is most agreeable to you," he replies politely.

I think for a moment. What would he like the most? "Hon, I don't give a care about 'agreeable', but I think you look like the pancake type."

"Really?" asks Andy, a puzzled expression on his face. "I have been told that pancakes are primarily a breakfast food."

"Who's gonna stop you from eating them now? The dinner police? Go on ahead."

After, as he would put it, a brief moment of deliberation, Andy decides that pancakes were as good as anything else. He quickly polishes off the plate that I gave him, and duly pays me the exact change.

"So Andy," I begin. "I thought that you were leavin' town last night. But you're still here. So what gives?"

"Well," he begins deliberately. "I attempted to leave, but I felt... pulled back here. I believe that this is perhaps where I am meant to settle."

I try my best to hide my excitement, but can't help but tell him what I think. "Well, that's just swell, Andy! There ain't much to do around here, but it's a real nice place, all the same. Nice scenery, fresh air and all that."

Suddenly, I hear the clock chime- five o'clock. I dash over to the sign-out sheet, sign out, and then run back to Andy.

"'Scuse me, hon, but I'm done work. I gotta get home and make dinner for the family now." I say.

"May I see you home?" Andy offers.

Taken aback, I can only say "Sure." No one has ever offered anything of the kind before. Most people avoid me instead. _Well_, I tell myself, _There's a first_ _time for everything_. I can tell that this offer is the beginning of something good.

_Author's note:_

_I'm sorry for the shortness (and dullness) of this chapter. Hopefully, events will begin to move along before long. About Isabelle's hourly wage: this story is meant to take place sometime during the 1960's, and $1.25 an hour is apparently the average American minimum wage of that time._

_ Detouredbe: Yes, I don't like it when the Once-ler's mother is portrayed as completely evil. I believe that she's been through some tough times, and takes out her frustration on others._

_Thank you again for the reviews._


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four: Revelations**

_-Andrew Once-ler's point of view_

This is going better than I could ever have hoped. My relationship with Isabelle is progressing in leaps and bounds. I am now, once again, sitting at her kitchen table. This time, however, I am enjoying a cup of coffee rather than soup. This invitation to visit her was unexpected, though certainly not unwelcome.

Isabelle, washing dishes, speaks with her back to me. "Guess it's been 'bout a week since we really got the chance to talk, huh? What've you been up to?"

I give a wry chuckle. "I have not accomplished much, unfortunately. I have merely been attempting to earn more money. I have been selling some curios that I have crafted, and I am getting along fairly well. And you?"

"Oh, I'm doin' alright," she replies. Silence reigns for several minutes. Suddenly, she speaks.

"I'm glad to have you for a friend, Andy. I never really had anyone to talk to before now."

I slowly nod, attempting to hide my confusion. The word 'friend' is unfamiliar to me. "Do you mean... comrade?" I ask.

Isabelle stops washing dishes. She turns to me, a confused expression on her face. "Andy, are you some kinda communist or somethin'?"

"No, no. Never mind. I didn't mean anything by that," I hurriedly say. A communist is evidently not a desirable thing to be. I just don't know what 'friend' could mean, other than something akin to a comrade.

Attempting to resurrect the conversation, I decide to introduce a new topic. "Where are the children- Brett and Chet?"

"It's after eight; they're in bed already," Isabelle says.

"How old are they?" I ask.

"They just turned two. Twins, ya know."

"They are very nice children, but so different from those of my homeland."

"Oh," she chuckles. "Do they all look like long, thin sticks where you come from?"

Ignoring her tasteless jab at my appearance, I continue. "Are they yours?"

Her smile fades. "Yeah, but... I...I don't want to talk about it."

"Why not?" I ask, confused. "They're very interesting. I should think that you would be proud to bear two such fine children."

Isabelle laughs, but the sound of it is strange and harsh. "I don't know what kind of cult you come from, Andy, but around here, if you have a baby- let alone two- when y'aren't married- well, people start to treat you as if you're some kinda animal, 'specially if you're a teenager when it happens."

"Married?" I muse. "What does 'married' even mean?"

Isabelle evidently thinks that my question is rhetorical. "You're quite the philosopher, ain'tcha, Andy? Sometimes I wonder too, though."

The conversation is finished, as is my cup of coffee. I feel that to stay longer would accomplish nothing. I begin to look for a way to excuse myself politely. Suddenly, I am hit with a stabbing pain, the locality of which I cannot identify. This can only mean one thing.

"Excuse me," I mumble. "I need to go. I have a previous engagement."

"Oh," Isabelle says, surprised. "Alright, Andy. See you tomorrow?"

"Perhaps," I mutter, as I stumble out of her home. My behaviour may be rude, but it can't be helped. The master waits for no one.

I trip along down the footpath leading to her house, looking desperately for a hiding place. No one can see the trance-like state that I will soon be in. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Isabelle's family's barn. Why didn't I notice that before? I hurry to the side of the barn that looks out upon the scrubby foothills that constitute the landscape of this town, away from the house. Upon reaching it, I slump against the wall of the barn, closing my eyes. I'm waiting for the master to speak.

**S ****S****S****S**

_Andrew._ Master. _I like the name that you've chosen for yourself. It's quite..._ _cute._ Thank you, Master. _Now, Andy. I'm not here to chat. Can you tell me what_ _I'm here for?_ Yes, sir. You want to know how the mission is progressing. _That's right. Can you tell me what I want to hear?_ Yes, sir. I believe that I have found the One. _Very good, Andy!_ _Of course, she fits the criteria?_ Yes, I am quite sure. She is close to six feet tall, has a wiry build, and a decent intelligence. In, fact, she has a desire to go into a career involving numbers. _Really? How peculiar._ _Very well, Andy. I will let you do as you please. But remember. If you fail..._ Don't worry, Master. It will be carried out just as you planned it. _Very well. You_ _are dismissed._

**S****S****S****S**

_**? Point of view**_

Love. It's a chemical phenomenon that was lost to us millennia ago, made obsolete by the passage of time. Yet on earth, it still exists. Love is really what makes humans' lives worth living. Longevity and fecundity are all well and good, indeed, critical to us as we attempt to colonize the universe. But do we long for a feeling beyond camaraderie?

No. At least, I don't. And I am the Green-ler, and the Green-ler knows all. I know that love kills, it injures, it hurts. Although I have not experienced it myself, I remember the mistakes that the forefathers made, and I learn from them. This is why "Andy's" mission is of critical importance. If he merely does his job, and colonizes the earth, then all will be well, and I will be pleased with him. Conversely, if he re-awakens love, it could be the ruin of us all.

**_Author's note:_**

**_I hope that this chapter is satisfactory. I revised it several times, but I am still not completely satisfied. I feel like the Green-ler's muse is a little silly and cliche, but I plan on elaborating on it in the future. Note:There is a little story behind the name "Green-ler". One day, I was explaining the concept of doppelganger Once-lers, including the Greed-ler, to my younger sister. She misheard me, however, and thought that I said "Green-ler", which makes sense, because of his green suit. This "Green-ler"became a whole new character in my mind. He isn't the Greed-ler; however, he does share a few similarities._**

**_Once again, thank you for reading and reviewing! _**


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